This Is The Way The World Ends
halfamoon entry for February 10th.
TITLE: This Is The Way The World Ends
AUTHOR: memories_child
FANDOM: The X Files
SPOILERS: Sein Und Zeit
RATING: 12
CHARACTER/PAIRING: Teena Mulder
WORD COUNT: 167
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, I'm borrowing them. But CC, if you're reading this, I could do with a job...
_______________
When the end comes it is with a whimper, not a bang. The hand that uncaps the bottle calm, the breathing steady. The end, when it comes, is nothing more than a falling asleep. A dream that lasts forever.
Teena had never considered suicide. Not when she was asked to choose between her children, not when Samantha was taken from her, not when she slept alone in a bed that had been filled, once, with love. She had never considered taking that which was never hers to take; trusting instead to half remembered prayers uttered in the middle of the night. Of love, and hope, and want.
But these things mean nothing now. Time lies heavy on her; the slow decay of age wearing her thin. She is forgetting - her daughter's laugh, her husband's touch, her son's love. She is old, and ill, and too tired to carry on.
Moonlight pools through the open window. The pill bottle lies askance on the pillow. Her breathing slows.
TITLE: This Is The Way The World Ends
AUTHOR: memories_child
FANDOM: The X Files
SPOILERS: Sein Und Zeit
RATING: 12
CHARACTER/PAIRING: Teena Mulder
WORD COUNT: 167
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, I'm borrowing them. But CC, if you're reading this, I could do with a job...
_______________
When the end comes it is with a whimper, not a bang. The hand that uncaps the bottle calm, the breathing steady. The end, when it comes, is nothing more than a falling asleep. A dream that lasts forever.
Teena had never considered suicide. Not when she was asked to choose between her children, not when Samantha was taken from her, not when she slept alone in a bed that had been filled, once, with love. She had never considered taking that which was never hers to take; trusting instead to half remembered prayers uttered in the middle of the night. Of love, and hope, and want.
But these things mean nothing now. Time lies heavy on her; the slow decay of age wearing her thin. She is forgetting - her daughter's laugh, her husband's touch, her son's love. She is old, and ill, and too tired to carry on.
Moonlight pools through the open window. The pill bottle lies askance on the pillow. Her breathing slows.